#Harry potter x reader

[multific]

The Cat and the Snake

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: Every night, Mattheo finds comfort in a black cat by the common room fire. He is completely unaware that the cat is you in animagus form.

Inspired by @rilakeila​'s work

The first time Mattheo spoke to you, you were curled up by the Slytherin common room fire in your Animagus form, a sleek black cat with piercing eyes.

You hadn’t meant to be caught.

You’d only shifted for a moment, seeking the warmth of the hearth and the comfort of solitude.

But Mattheo had entered the room in the dead of night, sighed heavily, and dropped onto the couch beside you, unaware of your true identity.

He ran a hand through his brown hair and muttered, “You’re lucky, you know. No one expects anything from a cat.”

You twitched your ears, listening, you looked at him.

“I bet you don’t get asked to be the heir of some psychopath,” he continued, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His voice was quiet but edged with bitterness. “You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not, or live up to ridiculous expectations.”

You stared at him, tilting your head.

Mattheo Riddle, the supposed villain, the dark prince of Slytherin, was venting to a cat.

Then, to your shock, he reached out and scratched behind your ears. A pleased purr escaped your throat before you could stop it. How did he manage to find the perfect spot immediately?!

“See? You get it.” he smiled.

And that was how it began.

It became a habit.

You’d slip into your Animagus form late at night and find him in the common room, lost in thought. And every night, he would talk.

About how people only saw his last name, never him.

About the expectations, the pressure, and the whispers that followed him everywhere he went.

And in return, you would rub against his legs, curl up in his lap, or bump your head against his arm. You tried your best to silently reassure him.

He never knew it was you.

Until the night he almost kissed you.

It happened at a party in the Slytherin common room.

The air was filled with the scent of fire, whiskey and laughter, the green-tinged light flickering across the walls.

You stood by the bookshelf, watching Mattheo from across the room.

He was leaning against the desk, swirling his drink in one hand, his dark eyes scanning the crowd. Then, as if sensing your gaze, he turned.

And smirked.

Before you could react, he pushed off the counter and made his way toward you, moving through the crowd with ease.

“Didn’t think you were the party type,” he said, stopping just inches from you.

You swallowed. “I couldn't say the same for you.”

His smirk deepened. His gaze flickered over you as if studying something he couldn’t quite place. “You remind me of someone.”

Your heart pounded. “Oh?”

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. “A cat, actually. One I’ve been talking to a lot lately.”

Ice ran through your veins.

Did he realise?

You forced a small laugh. “You talk to a lot of cats?”

“Just one,” he murmured. “And she reminds me of you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, you didn't know what to say.

“I don’t know why, but I feel… comfortable with you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Like I can say things I wouldn’t tell anyone else.”

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of his cologne, dark, warm and intoxicating. He was so close. If you tilted your head just slightly, his lips would brush against yours.

And that terrified you.

Because if he kissed you now, it would be a lie.

He thought he had only opened up to a cat, not you.

So before he could move, before you could lose yourself in the moment, you stepped back. “I should go.”

His brows furrowed, hurt flickering across his face. “Did I-?”

“No,” you cut in. “It’s just...” You hesitated, searching for an excuse. “I’m not what you think I am.”

And then you fled.

You ran back to your room.

You avoided him after that.

For days, you refused to shift into your animagus form, afraid that if you did, he’d say something that would break you completely.

You couldn’t keep pretending.

You decided that you would tell him the truth.

So one night, you waited for him in the common room, your real self this time, not the cat.

Your heart is hammering in your chest.

He entered as he always did, running a hand through his messy curls. But when he saw you instead of the feline form he was expecting, he froze.

“You’re up late,” he said carefully.

You took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”

He studied you for a long moment, then sat down. “Alright.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears now. Slowly, you stepped back and shifted.

A swirl of magic, a shimmer in the air, then you were on four paws, staring up at him with wide eyes.

His breath caught.

You shifted back.

Silence stretched between you.

Then he let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “You’re kidding.”

You swallowed hard, but you couldn't say a word.

He stood abruptly, pacing. “All this time…” He dragged a hand down his face. “Fuck, I told you everything.”

You flinched. “I never meant to deceive you.”

“Did you think it was funny?” His voice was filled with frustration, but beneath it, there was something raw. “Watching me spill my damn soul to a cat?”

“No!” You stepped closer. “I listened because I cared, Mattheo. Because I-” You hesitated, then whispered, “Because I love you.” You reached for him hesitantly. “Everything I felt as a cat, I still feel as me.”

His jaw clenched.

He looked at you for a long, agonising moment then, to your utter surprise, he exhaled and muttered, “Bloody hell.”

Before you could realise what was happening, he was kissing you.

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you close, his lips pressing against yours with a desperate kind of longing. You melted into him, every fear, every doubt vanishing in the warmth of his hold.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re infuriating,” he murmured.

You laughed softly. “And you talk to cats.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Only one.”

His fingers trailed down your arm before he intertwined them with yours.

“Stay with me?” he asked quietly.

You squeezed his hand.

“Always.”

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[ma1dita]

look don't touch

'between certainties and doubts' installment part of the mean!remus agenda, aka a moment from a terrifyingly convoluted teenage situationship between remus lupin and an unidentified Hogwarts student (x fem!reader) wc: 1.7k a/n: hello. angst. this was a request! loosely based off a true story...again. yes i was down bad.

—

He was looking at you.

Every single time your eyes wandered around the crowded space, his emerald ones were locked onto your figure, piercing through every single one of your pores. Maybe it was the way your jeans fit your ass or the way your top clung to your body—he always did like you in blue. Deep blue, like the ocean tides he would chase after in Swansea as a child, feet smacking against the rippling water before it settles. Of course, Remus’ motivations were much less innocent now, 17 years of age—that of a grown man, as Sirius is always chuffed to remind him about. 

Time to put your big boy pants on Moony! Gotta put yourself out there to get a bird and lock ‘er down!

Little do they know, you’re his biggest secret, left chasing after the flutter of your sparkly eyelids as you imbibe yourself for a game of King’s Cup. He’s kept you in a pocket close to his heart (or on his dick, depending on the mood) and away from even his closest friends. A secret bigger than his lycanthropy is one he’d never imagine to have the privilege (or misfortune) of having. It was all so complicated in that big brain of his—and of course, the four shots of Firewhiskey he was dared to down back to back did nothing to help.

Remus’ gaze was simmering—setting you alight with his unspoken intentions. Almost overstimulating, as if you could choke on the cigarette smoke he blew out in plumes from across the common room, like he was pulling you in towards him and his boys. It’s hard to mind your business when a man is constantly in it, you realize—and no matter how many turns around the room you make, or glasses of Elderflower wine your roommate hands over for you to chug, you could not shake him.

Well fuck him, right?

With every bone in your body feeling loose and light, you’re shaking your hips to a song you can barely distinguish because everything around you is a blur. Alcohol lines your veins and you swear the next time you take a peek through your peripherals, Remus’ eyes are darkened—his stare feeling like a caress in itself, tugging at the desire in your core.

Fuck him—actually…wait, that sounds like a great idea.

The music is too loud in here—Peter’s turned on a song that’s made half of the room scream, and then you feel hands press into your lower back. 

Remus. 

One of his long fingers catches the sliver of skin that separates your top from your jeans and he’s whispering into your ear as he passes, a hot gust of breath, “Scuse us, lovely.” James is close behind him, tossing you a wink as they make their way towards Frank and Alice on the sofas. You can feel his touch even after he goes. Much of your conversations with Remus Lupin are dealt in passing glances and raised eyebrows. Who needs words when it’s clear you’ll go where he wants you to follow?

He knows that—it’s been the only habit you find yourselves consistent with. But perhaps the both of you forget yourselves when there are other factors at play.

Lily’s calling you over to the group, a pale slender hand waving you over with a disarmingly bright grin. The Marauders & Co. are infamous throughout Hogwarts, and especially within Gryffindor. It’s hard to find a spot to settle in, but you saunter over anyways, nth drink in a shaky hand.

She calls out your name gleefully, kissing you on the cheek, “This is my best girl right here—she’s bloody brilliant at Care of Magical Creatures, saved my arse for the term project!”

“High praise from the Head Girl,” you grin lazily, stumbling slightly on your feet, “Careful, Potter. One more sweet nothing from her and I’ll steal your girl.” The group laughs easily at the banter, James’ ears turning red at the notion. You’d never been one to run in their circles, but keeping the pace is easier than you thought it would be. That, or it’s the liquid confidence warming up the nerves. You perch yourself onto the sofa arm right next to Remus—your thigh touching his arm and he stills, mentally checking out of his conversation with Sirius sitting next to him, who instead looks over to you.

“Got a knack for taming wild things, eh, love?”

And Remus elbows him, making Sirius’ butterbeer slosh onto his silk shirt which he immediately whines about. You’re laughing now and Remus’ head starts spinning at the sound and the realization that you would fit perfectly into his life if only he let you—and he didn’t know what was more terrifying, that, or the fact that he almost wants you to.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Black?” you tease through half-lidded eyes. You’re plastered now, your foot slowly stroking up and down whatever you can feel of Remus and he locks eyes with you again, from much closer than he has all night. It’s electrifying, sends a chill up his spine he can’t hide. Glowing under the dim lights, you’re something of a sight for sore eyes—staring at him almost sinister. 

For once, he feels like the prey, trapped with nowhere to go. 

Like an idiot, his best friend starts to howl, sending everyone into a fit of laughter and Remus feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin. Nothing about this is funny and he feels like everything might unravel the longer he sits here.

And then your hand touches his shoulder, soft and gentle—your eyes are only ever on him. He takes a deep breath, tensing. You’re leaning over him, lips grazing his ear and Remus swears he can almost taste the scent of your skin, “Alright, baby?” It comes out sweet and dreamy, you’re liberal with pet names and no one thinks much of it, or everyone’s too drunk to care but he feels his heart beating up out of his chest and he chokes on it.

“No,” he mutters, his right hand resting onto your knee and you take it as permission to lean closer to him, legs spilling into his space and breasts filling his vision. The inebriation makes you candid, your hand behind his head on the backrest of the couch, reaching to comb through his messy brown hair—even when you’re drunk you just want to make sure he’s okay, eyes flickering unsteadily across his face.

And then he pushes you. Kind of.

The hand on your thigh jerks as he stands up and in your state you topple right over the side of the couch and land on your back to a chorus of giggles. You’re sticky and humiliated—taking a moment to stare at the ceiling and whatever worry you had for him takes itself out on the exhale.

Remus is standing over you, looking mortified—you swat his hand away as he tries to help you up.

“Someone’s had too much to drink,” Frank says playfully and his girlfriend tuts, grabbing you by the arm to pull you up.

“All of you boys are being mean to her!” Alice pouts, trying to dust the muck off the back of your jeans and you’re biting the inside of your cheek. 

“Nope, he’s right. I’ve had just about enough,” you laugh stiffly. I should…that’s my cue to go.” Without saying goodbye, you turn on your heel just before your lip starts to quiver. Remus calls out your name, but you’re running out of the common room like it’s a house on fire.

You’re going in the opposite direction of your dorm— almost in a full sprint, but he catches you by the arm, captures you even as you try to wrestle out of his grasp and when he wrenches you toward him with almost the same amount of force— fuck, you’re crying.

“Oh just FUCK OFF, will you?”

“Hey,” he shushes, as if he’s trying to placate a tiny little creature—maybe you are, he watches you fold in on yourself in real time and you push him away before he can get closer, “I didn’t mean for that to happen, okay? I wa–”

“You looked at me,” you seethe, chest heaving, “I thought, I mean, I wasn’t even…” you hiccup, shaking your head. You cringe, ripping your shirt over your head to rid yourself of this feeling of being disgusting, unwanted—throwing the dark blue fabric at his face.

“Fuck you, Remus. I was worried about you. Do you always think I’m trying to sleep with you? Is that all you see me for?”

He’s blinking slowly, eyes flickering up and down and he’s at a loss for words for a multitude of reasons right now, “I know that, lovely. I-I know.”

“What else do you want from me, Remus?”

Mascara is running down your cheeks. He wipes the tracks away with the sleeve of his flannel, but you won’t stop sobbing and he pulls you into his arms murmuring promises he can’t keep into your ear. It’s hard to resist, crumpling into his arms because even if it doesn’t seem like it right now, he’s the only one you want despite this.

“I’ll make it up to you, lovely girl. I’m so sorry. I want all of you, baby. I don’t deserve you.” Remus�� words are like a lullaby—through the state the both of you are in, somehow he gets you into your bed and draws the curtains shut lest your roommates see when they get back from the party.  His touch is gentle again, not lewd nor selfish, and you’re half asleep when you feel him wipe your face clean with a warm washcloth. You think he stays the night, you know it by the feeling of his breath imprinted into your neck so much that you still feel it when you close your eyes. And a kiss is shared, if not given, if only either of you knew where it begins and ends. It tastes of sleep and longing, and you savor it, giving in before he does. Remus looks at you for a few more hours after, deep in thought until his own eyes give out from exhaustion—still, he stares until he can’t. 

One day, it won’t be like this anymore.

When you wake up, you’re not sure if it was all a dream. Remus has never slept in your room before, and there are barely any traces that he had been there at all, besides the blouse folded and clean at the edge of your bed, and the fact that the flannel wrapped around your body still smells like him from last night, heady and intoxicating.

—

i don't do taglists anymore! follow @ma1dita-mail & turn on post notifs 🤍

[pottermagiczz]

When Y/n and Harry are planning on going for a date

Y/n: Hey Remus, wanna third wheel on my date with Harry tomorrow?

Remus: Sure

Y/n: Hey Sirius, wanna third wheel on my date with Harry tomorrow?

Sirius: Haha, why not?

The next day

Sirius and Remus on seeing each other, confused: What are you doing here? Y/n: I've always wanted to go on a double date! Harry: *smiling dreamily at Y/n*

[jasperhaleobsessed]

Regulus Black with a muggleborn S/O headcanons

For my friend @girlinwaytoomanyfandoms

You were a Hufflepuff and he was Slytherin.

He was a pure blood and you were a muggle born.

Both born from completely different worlds and yet your worlds collided.

No one would have thought this including yourself.

No one was expecting you two to be a couple, either.

There was many trials and tribulations as you two got together but in the end it was worth it.

You two were an adorable couple anyone could see that.

Some begged to differ and said some ugly things due to your heritage.

Some thought you two shouldn't be together but the two of you didn't let that dictate your relationship.

You kept your light and didn't let prejudice purebloods take your happiness away.

Regulus always gave you the best kisses.

Even after the kiss was over you couldn't help but keep your eyes close because of how magical the kiss felt.

He'd also kiss you sweetly on the temple.

And on the nose. He was always so mischievous about it, which always made you giggle.

You two would bond over books and poetry. On the weekends and after class he'd read you poems that reminded him of you.

He also had an amazing singing voice and you two would sing old muggle songs together.

Sometimes when you two would stay up late in the common room and talk for hours. You could talk to him forever and not get bored.

One time you fell asleep on his shoulder as he read an excerpt from a book he loved. He paused smiling at you as he closed the book he kissed your cheek softly.

He'd do anything for you. Especially defend you if anyone tried cursing your name.

One time in particular, someone caught you off guard and blindsided you from behind.

They disarmed you but Regulus had your back. You were no damsel buy you were glad you had someone who cared for you.

And for everything he does whether it's little or small or huge, it still warms your heart every time.

[tacobacoyeet]

ava's 400 follower celebration! [OPEN]

what?! 400 (and two) followers?! this is crazy! thank you to each and every one of you for supporting me and following along. i've been on tumblr for quite a while, but my heart has never been so warm. i'd like to express my gratitude with an ask celebration, with credits to @mirclealignr!

fandoms: harry potter universe (marauders era, golden trio era) | bridgerton | challengers | suits

🌿[fern] — give me a character and an idea and i'll write a short blurb or a few headcanons.

🏵️[flower] — (moots only, please!) tell me your name and your favorite color, and i'll write you a short (silly) poem.

🌱[sprout] — tell me your gender preference, fandom preference & a small description of yourself & i’ll ship you with a character with 3-5 headcanons.

💐[bouquet] — send me a prompt from this list and a pairing (character x character, character x reader), and i'll write a short blurb.

taglist (and some mutuals, sorry if i missed you!!): @kimmyneutron @kharwreck @queensushinee @hanneh69 @glennussy @awaywithtime @babyspiderling @jamespotteraliveversion @ghostgirl-22 @ambrcia @blastzachilles @voidsuites @roryheartz @diyasgarden @foralltheprettygirls @faistology @asheepinfrance @itsrensfairygardenn @jordiemeow @artstennisracket @ellaynaonsaturn @222col @ghostgirl-22

[rainydayathogwarts]

concussions and interruptions au

ˋ°•*⁀➷ navigation

꩜ smut ❀ fluff 𖤓 angsty/angry 𖤐 funny

synopsis: when you accidentally meet harry's parents for the first time, they quickly learn that you're a very sweet girl, but you have a very complicated family. slytherin!reader

✩ concussions and interruptions - You aren’t expecting to meet Harry’s parents for the first time while you share an intimate moment in the hospital wing after he sustains another quidditch injury (❀𖤐)

✩ after curfew - you and harry seem to forget his godfather is doing rounds when you sneak out after curfew (❀𖤐)

✩ it's a date - when harry and his parents see you in diagon alley, they are surprised to see the sudden change in behaviour you have at your parents' presence. but that won't stop harry from getting his kiss. COMING SOON!

✩ heavy dresses, tight corsets - in the guise of having a sleepover with daphne, you go over to harry's house, where you can finally take this stupid dress off. COMING SOON!

✩ people are watching - it seems that you begin to care less and less who gets to see the true side of your parents. and apparently, so do they. COMING SOON!

[httpvomitello]

Accidental Love

Harry Potter x Y/N

Helloo, hello. So, since there was no explanation about what this kind of Accidental Love would be like, I took the liberty of writing it the way I imagined it would be good. I hope you like it! ~ ♡

Accidental Love .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: You and Harry Potter have been dating for a while, navigating the pressures of school, the looming war, and the expectations that come with being close to the Chosen One.

harry potter x f!reader

You had been feeling off for days. At first, you thought it was just the stress of exams or the winter chill seeping into the castle walls, making you more tired than usual. But then came the nausea. The exhaustion. The way certain smells made your stomach turn.

It wasn’t until Hermione mentioned you looked pale that the realization hit you like a rogue Bludger.

You might be pregnant.

The thought made your chest tighten as you sat on the edge of your bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, staring at the enchanted window that reflected a dark, snowy night.

"There's no way," you muttered to yourself.

But deep down, you knew.

The next morning, you dragged Hermione to the Room of Requirement under the pretense of needing her help with something. She, of course, saw right through you.

"What's going on?" she asked as the door sealed behind you.

You took a deep breath, gripping your robes. "I think I'm pregnant."

Hermione blinked. "You think?"

"I'm late," you admitted. "And I feel—off. I just know."

Her face softened. "Oh, Y/N…"

The Room provided exactly what you needed: a small wooden box with a vial inside. You hesitated before taking it, hands slightly trembling as you followed the instructions. Moments later, a soft glow filled the air.

Positive.

Your stomach twisted. "Oh, God."

Hermione grabbed your hands. "You're not alone in this. You have to tell Harry."

You nodded, but fear coiled in your chest. How was he going to react?

You found Harry in the common room that evening, sitting near the fire with Ron.

"Hey," you said softly, and he looked up with a grin.

"Hey, love," he said, reaching for your hand. "Everything okay?"

"Can we talk?"

Ron shot Harry a knowing look before excusing himself, leaving you alone.

You swallowed, gathering your courage. "Harry, I'm—I'm pregnant."

For a moment, he just stared. His smile faded, his green eyes wide.

"You're—?"

You nodded.

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. "Are—are you sure?"

You bit your lip. "I took a test. It's positive."

Silence. The fire crackled, filling the space between you.

Then, to your surprise, Harry let out a shaky breath and reached for your hands. "Okay."

You frowned. "Okay?"

His eyes met yours, and despite the fear in them, there was something else—determination. "We'll figure this out."

And for the first time that night, you felt like maybe you could.

The next few weeks were a blur of whispered conversations, Hermione covering for you when the nausea hit, and Harry constantly checking on you like you might break at any second.

But soon, rumors started spreading.

"Did you hear?" Lavender Brown whispered to Parvati one morning. "Someone in Gryffindor is pregnant."

Your heart stopped.

By lunch, it seemed like everyone knew. Even Professor McGonagall had pulled you aside with a concerned look, offering support but also reminding you of the challenges ahead.

And then, there was Dumbledore.

He called both you and Harry to his office, his blue eyes filled with an unreadable emotion.

"This is not a path I expected either of you to walk so soon," he said, his voice gentle. "But life is unpredictable. What matters now is how you choose to move forward."

Harry straightened. "I won’t abandon her. Or the baby."

Dumbledore studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Then you must prepare for what is to come."

As your belly grew, so did the tension in the Wizarding World. The war was at its peak. Death Eaters attacked more frequently. Harry was being pulled in a million directions, and yet—he always came back to you.

One night, he found you sitting by the window, cradling your stomach.

"I don't want to lose you," you whispered.

"You won't," he promised, pressing a hand against your bump. "I won’t let anything happen to you or the baby."

Tears burned your eyes. "What if you don't have a choice?"

He swallowed hard. "Then I’ll fight like hell to come back to you."

[voxslays]

EASTER/1.5K FOLLOWER EVENT

I saw someone doing an easter event recently, and I thought it would be fun to also have one! Plus, I just recently reached 1.5k followers (thank you all!) and here we are!

I recently read an amazing fairytale themed fic, and thought “why not also incorporate that?” Which is what I will do! Once a day, I will post a poll for each of the characters (in alphabetical order) with a couple of fairytales to chose from.

Whichever has the most votes is what I will be doing for that character! These will also most likely have multiple parts too! So don’t worry if yours doesn’t get chosen!

Anyways, thank you all for supporting me! It means the world. <3

Alastor — Rumpelstiltskin

Poll results Tears of Gold — Part 1

Draco Malfoy — TBD

Dae-ho TBD

Lucifer — TBD

Hwang In-ho — TBD

T.O.P. — TBD

Thanos — TBD

The Salesman — TBD

Vox — TBD

[rottenherbs]

Clouded Sunrays

Paring: D.M x Hufflepuff! Reader Tags: Sunshine x Grumpy trope // Request: "fluffy (a lil angst if you want) draco x hufflepuff!reader i beggg. grumpy x sunshine of course, draco extremely down bad. no specific plot. you have complete creative control, i know it’ll be so good no matter what 🫶" W/C: 2k A/N: this was cute! Leaned more into the internal struggle of Draco idkkkk. Thank you for requesting <3 [masterlist] Much love, Saige

The first time Draco Malfoy realized he had a problem, you were standing in the middle of the Great Hall, sunlight catching the edges of your hair like a halo, laughing at something Longbottom had said. And Draco, miserable, jaded, and permanently unimpressed, felt his chest tighten in a way that was neither pleasant nor easily ignored.

It got worse from there.

You were a Hufflepuff—and not just any Hufflepuff. No, you were the type who smiled at everyone, helped first years who were struggling with their books, and actually enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures. You were insufferably kind, perpetually bright-eyed, and worst of all, completely immune to his brooding glares.

Draco tried everything to make you frown. Sarcasm, snide remarks, even the occasional well-placed jab about your House. Nothing worked. Every time he threw a storm cloud in your direction, you batted it away with nothing but a tilt of your head and a ridiculous, knowing smile.

"You're in a mood today," you'd say, voice warm, like you were talking to some poor stray in need of affection.

"I'm always in a mood," he would snap back, only to regret it when you laughed, like he'd said something terribly amusing.

It was infuriating... yet endearing.

But the real problem? The real problem was that Draco Malfoy was completely, utterly, devastatingly obsessed with you.

He hated the way his chest clenched when you tucked a stray curl behind your ear. He loathed the way his face burned when you touched his arm in passing. He despised that he had memorized the exact shade of your eyes, the way your lips pursed when you were deep in thought, the way your nose crinkled when you laughed too hard.

It was absurd. He was absurd.

And yet, here he was, letting you drag him by the wrist down the corridor, your fingers curled around his as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Where are we going?" he grumbled, even though he already knew he'd follow you anywhere.

"The courtyard," you chirped, throwing him a sunny glance over your shoulder. "You need fresh air."

"I need a potion to put me out of my misery."

"Tsk., Draco," you sighed theatrically. "You're so dramatic."

He rolled his eyes, but he didn't pull away. Because the thing was—he liked your hands on him. He liked the way you said his name, like it wasn’t something sharp and bitter, but something warm and worth saying. He liked being pulled in ways that challenged him both emotionally and physically.

Merlin help him, but he was so far gone.

The two of you emerged into the courtyard, where the late afternoon sunlight cast golden patches across the stone benches. You pulled him toward a secluded corner beneath a tree, the shade offering a welcome reprieve from the lingering warmth of the day.

"Sit," you ordered, nudging him onto the bench before plopping down beside him, far too close for his sanity.

Draco let out an exaggerated sigh but obeyed, watching as you tilted your face toward the sky, basking in the sunlight filtering through the leaves. His fingers twitched at his side, resisting the ridiculous urge to reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"See? Isn't this nice?" you hummed, stretching your arms before turning to him with that impossibly bright smile.

Draco scoffed. "Define nice." He pursed his lips, holding any visual expressions of pleasure he was in fact having.

You bumped your shoulder against his, grinning. "Admit it, Malfoy. You enjoy spending time with me."

He turned his head sharply, glaring at you like you had just insulted his entire lineage. "I tolerate you."

"Mhm," you hummed knowingly, eyes twinkling with mischief. "That's why you're still here instead of sneaking off to sulk in the dungeons."

Draco groaned, throwing his head back against the bench. "You're exhausting."

You giggled, and something in his chest tightened painfully. "And yet, you always find yourself next to me."

Draco refused to dignify that with a response, instead choosing to stare at the swaying branches above. But Merlin, you were right. He did always find himself next to you, drawn in by something he couldn’t quite name.

In the beginning, it was your confidence. The way you weren't inherently afraid of him or his status. Then he became comfortable around you - your presence and repetition was something he sought out and even looked forward to.

The silence between you stretched comfortably, filled only by the distant chatter of students and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. He risked a glance at you, only to find you watching him with an easy smile, as if you had all the time in the world just to sit there and look at him.

His throat went dry. What was he supposed to do with that? With you? With the way you just—existed, all warmth and softness, melting down the jagged edges he had spent years fortifying?

Before he could stop himself, he reached out, brushing a stray leaf from your hair. You blinked in surprise, lips parting slightly, and he quickly looked away, suddenly finding the stone pathway very interesting.

"You had—" He cleared his throat. "A leaf."

"Oh." You touched your hair, your fingers ghosting over the spot he had just touched, and for a moment, Draco was convinced his heart had stopped altogether.

You tilted your head, considering him. "You know, for someone who pretends to be so grumpy, you’re actually quite sweet."

Draco made a sound of protest, but you simply laughed, reaching over to poke his arm playfully. "Don't worry, I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret."

—------

Draco Malfoy was in a foul mood.

At first, he didn’t know why. Breakfast in the Great Hall was the same as always—Blaise was reading the Prophet with mild disinterest, Pansy was droning on about something he didn’t care about, and the usual hum of conversation filled the space. Everything was normal. Except it wasn’t.

Because you weren’t there.

Draco found himself frowning at the Hufflepuff table, where you were supposed to be sitting, laughing at some absurd joke, filling the air with that insufferably warm presence of yours. But your usual spot was empty, your absence unsettling in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Not that he cared. Of course not. Why would he? It wasn’t as if he had grown accustomed to the way mornings felt lighter when you were around. It wasn’t as if he looked forward to your stupid smile, the way you always seemed to brighten the dreary Hogwarts castle with nothing but your presence.

He scowled and stabbed at his eggs, ignoring the way his appetite seemed to have vanished.

“You look like you’re plotting someone’s murder,” Blaise commented lazily, flipping a page of the Prophet.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Brilliant observation.”

Pansy leaned closer, smirking. “Who’s the unlucky sod? Don’t tell me it’s Potter again—”

“No one,” Draco snapped, feeling irrationally irritated. He shoved his plate away and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Where’s the fire, Parkinson?”

Pansy snorted. “I was just going to say that if you keep glaring at the Hufflepuff table like that, they’re going to think you’ve hexed one of their own.”

Draco tensed. Had he really been staring that long? He forced himself to look away, feigning disinterest. “Like I care what a bunch of badgers think.”

“Sure,” Blaise drawled, raising a knowing brow. 

Draco shot him a sharp glare that immediately shut him up.

Still, the irritation remained. Where were you? Had something happened? Were you ill? The idea didn’t sit well with him, and before he could stop himself, he was turning back toward your table, scouring the room for any sign of you.

Nothing. Not even a glimpse of your ridiculous, sunshine-filled presence.

He hated how restless it made him.

And then—finally—there you were. Strolling into the Great Hall as if you hadn’t just disappeared and left him drowning in a sea of irritation and unease.

Draco barely managed to school his features into indifference, watching from the corner of his eye as you slid into your seat, laughing at something one of your friends said. You looked fine. Happy. Completely unaware of the fact that your absence had nearly ruined his morning.

Merlin, he was pathetic.

Before he could think better of it, you turned, locking eyes with him across the hall. Your face lit up instantly, and with an ease that sent his heart into a tailspin, you raised your hand in a small, enthusiastic wave.

Draco barely resisted the urge to groan. But despite himself—despite everything—his fingers twitched ever so slightly in response.

—-----

Draco Malfoy was losing his mind.

He sat alone in his dorm room, the dim candlelight flickering against the stone walls, casting shadows that seemed to taunt him. His elbows rested on his desk, fingers tangled in his hair as he glared down at the parchment before him. His quill lay discarded, ink drying at the tip. He had an essay to finish, but his thoughts were elsewhere—on you. Always on you.

It was pathetic. He was pathetic.

You were a Hufflepuff. Kind, warm, bright—everything he wasn’t supposed to want. Everything that didn’t fit into the life that had already been carved out for him. His family had expectations. His peers had assumptions. And none of them involved him being utterly, helplessly drawn to someone like you.

Draco let out a slow breath, clenching his fists. This was a problem. A distraction. You were nothing but a distraction.

So why couldn’t he get you out of his head?

He could still see the way your face had lit up when you spotted him in the Great Hall earlier that morning. That stupid, effortless smile of yours. That wave, that ridiculous little wave that had sent something sharp and unbearable clawing at his chest. He should’ve ignored you. He should’ve turned away, given you nothing. But instead, his fingers had twitched, as if some invisible force had yanked the response from him against his will.

Draco groaned, shoving himself away from his desk. He paced the length of his dorm, frustration tightening his jaw. This was dangerous. This was reckless. He had spent his entire life being told who he was supposed to be, who he was supposed to associate with. A Malfoy did not fall for a Hufflepuff. A Malfoy did not entertain such foolish, sentimental attachments.

But then there was you. Always you.

Your laugh haunted him in the quiet moments. Your voice, soft and teasing, slipping through the cracks in his carefully built walls. You were everywhere, and it was driving him mad.

What would his father say if he knew? If he so much as suspected? The thought sent a chill down Draco’s spine. He had spent his whole life trying to prove himself, to live up to expectations that felt like shackles around his wrists. His name meant something. His reputation meant something. And yet—

And yet, when he was with you, none of it seemed to matter.

Draco collapsed onto his bed, rubbing a hand over his face. He needed to stop this. He needed to bury whatever ridiculous feelings had taken root before they grew into something even more dangerous.

And they were about to get dangerous 

As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, exhaustion started to creep in, wrapping around him like a thick fog. He tried to think of anything else—his classes, his father’s expectations, the endless pressure to be the perfect Malfoy. But his mind betrayed him.

Instead, he thought of you.

He thought of the way your eyes crinkle when you laughed, the way your nose scrunched up when you were deep in concentration. He thought of the way you tilted your head when you listened, as if whatever someone was saying truly mattered to you. The way you walked through the castle, as if every hallway belonged to you, not because of arrogance, but because you made every place feel like home.

A warmth spread through him, uninvited yet impossible to push away. He wanted to believe he could control this, that he could force himself not to care, but lying there in the quiet of his dorm, with nothing but his thoughts and the lingering ghost of your presence in his mind, he felt himself slip further into the inevitable.

His eyes fluttered shut, and for the first time in a long while, sleep found him easily.

Because, even in his dreams, you were there.

[itsalliny0urhead]

After Hours (sirius black x slytherin!femreader)

You and Sirius Black have hated each other for years — or at least, that’s what everyone thinks. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor, a pureblood and a blood traitor — you were supposed to hate him. And for years, you played the part perfectly. The insults, the hexes, the glares across the Great Hall — it was all easy.

But it wasn’t real.

Because before Hogwarts, before sides, you and Sirius were close. Best friends. And somewhere along the way — between late-night detentions, stolen glances, and quiet confessions beneath the Quidditch stands — things changed.

sirius black x slytherin!femreader

The corridor was dark, the only light coming from the faint flicker of the torches along the cold stone walls. The chill of the night pressed against your skin, seeping through the thin fabric of your uniform. Your footsteps were nearly soundless on the worn stone floor — years of sneaking through Hogwarts had made you an expert at moving unnoticed.

You slipped around the corner of the one-eyed witch statue, heart thudding painfully in your chest as you approached the alcove near the edge of the Gryffindor tower. The sound of your pulse roared in your ears — but beneath it, you felt it. That pull in your chest, low and familiar. Like your body knew exactly where he would be.

He was already there, of course.

Sirius Black was leaning casually against the wall, his long legs crossed at the ankles. His black hair fell carelessly over his grey eyes as he rolled a cigarette between his fingers. The soft glow of the torchlight sharpened the cut of his cheekbones and cast shadows across his jaw. He was still wearing his uniform trousers and the white button-down — tie hanging loose around his neck, shirt untucked. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the sharp cut of his forearms.

"You’re late," Sirius murmured, his mouth curling at the corner as his eyes swept lazily over you.

"You’re lucky I showed up at all," you shot back, stepping toward him. "Flint nearly caught me sneaking out."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "So what you’re saying is… you’d risk getting caught for me?"

You narrowed your eyes. "Don’t let it go to your head."

His eyes darkened as you stopped in front of him. He reached out, his hand curling around your wrist. His thumb brushed over your pulse point — and he smiled faintly when he felt the way your heartbeat spiked beneath his touch.

"You always say that," Sirius murmured, his voice low and edged with quiet amusement. His hand slid up your arm, his touch feather-light. "And yet…"

Your heart hammered in your chest as he leaned in. His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The scent of him — smoke and soap and something dark — curled through your senses. You hated how easily it made you shiver.

"Sirius," you warned.

"What?" He smiled — that lazy, dangerous smile that made your stomach twist painfully. His hand slid down your side, fingertips brushing beneath the hem of your sweater. "Afraid someone might see?"

Yes. Of course you were.

You and Sirius had hated each other for years — or at least, that’s what everyone thought. You were a Slytherin, a pureblood from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Your family had expected you to stick close to your own kind. And Sirius…

Sirius had left his family behind. He had thrown away his last name and everything it stood for — and you were supposed to hate him for that. And you had. For years, you’d thrown insults back and forth, sneered at each other in the Great Hall, hexed each other in the corridors — but it had always been a front.

Because once — before Hogwarts, before houses, before sides — you had been close. Best friends. He’d been the only person who could make you laugh until you cried, and you’d been the only one who could quiet the storm behind his eyes. And maybe that connection had never really gone away — not fully.

It had been easy to pretend to hate him at first. You were supposed to. You were a Slytherin, and he was a blood traitor — a Gryffindor. But then, sixth year happened. A late-night detention, a shared moment beneath the Quidditch stands — Sirius pressing his hand against your cheek and looking at you like you were something worth breaking rules for. And you had never recovered from it.

Now it was seventh year, and sneaking out to meet Sirius after curfew had become dangerously routine.

"You shouldn’t be here," you whispered.

Sirius’s hand slid up your side, his fingers trailing beneath the hem of your sweater. His palm rested against the curve of your waist, just beneath your ribs.

"And yet…" He tilted his head, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw. "Here you are."

Your stomach flipped violently. "If someone sees—"

"Then I’ll tell them you attacked me." His lips curled against your skin. "Hexed me into submission. Forced me to kiss you."

"And if I told them you begged me?"

Sirius laughed — low and dark. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin behind your ear. You hated the way your body responded to him so easily — hated how fast your pulse was pounding beneath your skin.

"Begged?" Sirius repeated, his voice rough. "Do you want me to beg, love?"

You opened your mouth to snap back — but Sirius kissed you before you could.

It hit you like a hex to the chest.

His mouth was warm and demanding, his hand sliding beneath your sweater as he pulled you against him. His other hand threaded into your hair, tilting your head back as his lips moved over yours with quiet desperation. Sirius groaned softly when you curled your hands into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you.

You gasped when his tongue slid across your bottom lip, and Sirius took advantage of the opening. He kissed you deeper — slow and deliberate — tasting you like he’d been thinking about it all day. His hand slid beneath the hem of your skirt, his thumb brushing against your bare thigh.

Sirius smiled against your mouth when you made a quiet, breathless noise. He pressed you back against the wall, his thigh sliding between yours as his hand curled around your waist. His lips moved down the curve of your jaw, pressing slow kisses to the hollow of your throat.

You were spiraling — completely undone by the way he was touching you, by the way he was holding you like you were fragile and precious and dangerous all at once. His mouth pressed beneath your ear, and you shivered.

"This is stupid," you whispered.

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the edge of your skirt higher. His mouth ghosted over your pulse point. "But it feels good, doesn’t it?"

You didn’t answer — you couldn’t.

Sirius kissed you again — harder this time — his hand curling beneath your jaw. His lips parted against yours, and you let him deepen the kiss. You tasted smoke and warmth and something sharp beneath it. His hand slid up your side, beneath your sweater, fingers tracing the line of your ribs.

When you finally pulled back, you were breathless. Sirius’s eyes were dark, his lips flushed. His thumb brushed over the corner of your mouth.

"Don’t look so smug," you breathed.

"Can’t help it." Sirius grinned. "You always taste so sweet."

Your breath hitched. But before you could say anything, footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Sirius’s expression sharpened instantly. He took a step back, his hand sliding away from your waist. You hated the loss of contact — hated how easily he slipped back into that untouchable expression.

"Guess you’d better hex me now," he teased, his mouth curling at the corner. "Sell it."

You flicked your wand toward him — a harmless jinx that knocked him backward just as the prefects rounded the corner. Sirius hit the ground with a loud thump, groaning dramatically as he sprawled across the floor.

"Traitor," he mouthed.

You fought back a smile as the prefects helped him to his feet.

This was dangerous. This was stupid. This was Sirius Black.

And you weren’t stopping anytime soon.

[thedraculacat]

Marked ೃ⁀⤵

draco malfoy x reader

masterlist

synopsis: The Yule Ball was meant to be a night you'll never forget, but when you follow Draco out of the Great Hall, you uncover a secret he was never meant to share- one that lingers on your lips just before he whispers, "Obliviate."

w/c: 750

The Yule Ball is meant to be an enchanting night of music, glittering gowns, and the kind of romance that only comes alive under the floating candlelight. But for Draco Malfoy, it seems to be anything but.

One moment, he’s sneering at Potter with words as sharp as daggers. The next, his jaw is tight, and he’s storming out, his dress robes billowing behind him as he shoves his way through the grand doors of the Great Hall.

And sure, you’re his friend, but you aren’t his date. You aren’t even sure why you follow him, only that something in the way he left- the tension in his shoulders, the storm in his eyes- tells you that he shouldn’t be alone.

By the time you catch up to him, he’s made it to the empty boys’ bathroom. He stands over the sink, both hands braced against the porcelain, his head hung low. His sleeves are rolled up, and he’s breathing heavily, setting in a way you know means he’s barely holding himself together.

He doesn’t hear you step forward, doesn’t realize you’re there until you place a hand on his arm. The moment your fingers brush his skin, he flinches away violently and fixes his shirt, but it’s too late.

You saw it.

The Dark Mark.

Your breath catches, a sharp inhale that fills the silent room. His body stiffens, waiting- maybe for you to scream, or to step back in horror, or worse, to run. But you don’t move.

Instead, you reach out again, slower this time. Your fingers wrap gently around his wrist, tugging his arm back to you. His skin is warm beneath your touch, his pulse hammering beneath your fingertips. He lets you push the fabric back up, his jaw tightening as your gaze falls upon the mark burned into his forearm.

“Oh, Draco…” your voice is barely above a whisper, but the weight of those two words makes him exhale sharply, like you just knocked the wind out of him.

He swallows hard as he looks between you and his arm. “You should go,” he says, his voice low and guarded.

You don’t. Instead, your thumb brushes over the mark. His entire body tenses, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I don’t hate you,” you say simply, meeting his eyes. “You’re still the same Draco I care about.”

His expression flickers- uncertainty, disbelief, something else too fragile to name. “You don’t understand,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You can’t know about this. You need to forget it.”

You release his arm, letting the sleeve fall back down, concealing the mark once more. When you look back at him, you smile sadly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

For the first time that night, something in his shoulders relaxes. He exhales, then moves before you can think- his hand finds your waist, fingers curling around the fabric of your dress, pulling himself close to you.

“Thank you,” he hums. His forehead almost rests against yours. A moment passes between you, heavy, charged. You think, for a second, that he might kiss you.

Instead, he hesitates. “What about your date?”

You blink, momentarily confused. “I didn’t come with one.”

His brows furrow. “You didn’t?”

“Blaise walking down the stairs with me while he talks about how he wished he asked out Daphne doesn’t count,” you smile softly. “What about Astoria?”

He stiffens, looking almost startled. You don’t mean it cruelly, but something about your question makes him falter. His fingers twitch at your waist.

“You should go back to her,” you say quietly, though it’s the last thing you want.

Draco doesn’t respond. Instead, he leans in, closing the space between you, pressing his lips to yours.

It’s soft at first, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid you might pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you press closer, your hands sliding up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead lingers against yours. His breath fans across your lips.

“I don’t think she’d understand,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “Not like you.”

You tighten your grip on him, pulling him closer, pressing your lips to his again. As you do, you can feel him shift, pulling his wand from his back pocket.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in your ear.

You feel breathless as he points his wand to your head. Your heat pounds in your chest as you hear the one word you wish he wouldn’t say.

“Obliviate.”

[faedoras]

I have undeniable proof that the Tumblr user "aishaisbae" and "sweetproclivity" are the same person.

For context, the owner of "sweetproclivity" created the "aishaisbae" account to interact with herself and reinforce false narratives while attacking those who disagree with her. She used this secondary account to validate her own claims, creating an illusion of support while continuing to spread misinformation and stir unnecessary drama.

She even reblogged posts from "aishaisbae" as if it were an entirely separate person backing her up, particularly when trying to push a narrative about a supposed "Twitter stalker." However, she made a critical mistake—she initially used hashtags in first-person when posting under her main account, then later edited the "aishaisbae" post to conceal the evidence, hoping no one would notice.

This deceptive behavior is not only dishonest but also a direct attempt to manipulate public perception. It's important to be aware of these tactics so that she cannot continue to harass others across multiple platforms and accounts without being held accountable.

Please share this information to prevent her from getting away with this.

🤚PAUSE THE VIDEO TO SEE THE HASHTAGS

Read those interesting hashtags.

[saintfaux]

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[colmiillo]

When y/n does something so cringe that i have to look at the invisible camera for a sec.

[rainydayathogwarts]

After curfew - harry potter

concussions and interruptions au summary: you and harry seem to forget his godfather is doing rounds when you sneak out after curfew (everyone is alive and well) wc: 0.7k+

You giggled as Harry’s hair tickled your cheeks, lips parting to let your boyfriend deepen the kiss. His kisses tasted of lemon drops and butterbeer, a spoiler of the day he had with his friends, but you were happy he was all yours for now. Away from the wandering eyes of talkative students and whispering portraits. The cold night's wind attacked you from every direction and you shuddered, but Harry pulled you closer to him and his warm touch.

Harry didn’t break the kiss as he unravelled his scarf from around his neck to wrap around yours, his gloved hands cupping your cold-to-the-touch cheeks. You snaked your arms around his waist from the front of his open jacket so they rested between the warm layers of clothes he wore. “Should come better prepared next time.” Harry mumbled, walking you a couple of steps backwards so your back rested against the bridge’s wooden railing. “Gives me an excuse to be clingy.” You replied against his lips with a bashful giggle. “You don’t need excuses to be clingy.” Harry insisted softly as he pressed a short kiss to your lips, pulling away to look at you with a look of adoration.

“I love you, Harry.” You said, tugging him back into the kiss before he could reply. Harry tried breaking the kiss to reply, but you wouldn’t let him make space between your lips, so he just mumbled into the kiss a wordless jumble of “I love you more.” You giggled happily, and Harry seized the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, expelling a satisfied moan from your lips.

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the soft noise you made, one hand leaving your cheek to find home in the back pocket of your jeans and pulling you impossibly closer to him. You gasped in surprise, opening your eyes suddenly only to welcome the darkness of hogwarts’s nocturnal autumns. You closed your eyes again, letting yourself melt against your boyfriend’s chest, his gentle touch serenading you into a calm state that almost had you forgetting your worries of being caught outside after curfew.

Luckily for you, there was something else to remind you of your rule-breaking activities. A sharp cough had Harry breaking away from the kiss, his eyes snapping open as he spun around to face whoever had caught you, though his hands stayed in position on your body. You felt the blood drain from your face as you took in the sight of your Professor, pushing Harry’s hands off your body. “Uncle Moony!” Harry greeted, a nervous tone lacing his voice.

Harry’s godfather stood with his hands sassily placed on his hips, a mix between a disapproving and amused look on his face. “Harry.” Professor Lupin replied, barely glancing in your direction.

“I’m assuming you know what time it is.”

“Actually I’ve got no idea, I’ve been pretty busy.”

You gasped in horror, a hand coming up to sharply hit Harry’s bicep. Lupin didn’t try to hide the exasperated smile from coming onto his face, but it didn’t seem to be because of Harry’s comment. “Your parents are going to love this one.” He muttered, well aware that he had the upper hand in the situation.

At his godfather’s comment, Harry’s face turned into one of panic, shaking his head frantically as he pleaded “Don’t tell my parents!” “Professor Lupin, please don’t tell his parents!” As though just remembering you were there, Remus’s head snapped towards you, a surprised look on his face. “It’s going to make such a bad impression on them if they hear that story a week before I’m supposed to properly meet them! That first time was a complete disaster!”

Remus hummed in surprise “A week, eh? Didn’t think you’d do it so soon after the little hospital wing incident. So have you told your parents you’re dating my godson?” If you weren’t panicked before, you definitely were now, watching the man in front of you switch so easily from being your professor to your boyfriend’s godfather. You shook your head slowly, mumbling “You know how they are.” Remus nodded, “I do. Can’t say I had the pleasure of being their classmate, because it wasn’t a pleasure.” You threw your hands out “Exactly! You get it!”

Harry wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Doesn’t mean she can’t get to know mum and dad. Please don’t tell them, Remus.” The scarred man hummed, gesturing to the end of the bridge and towards the castle. “Get to bed, both of you. I won’t tell them.

Yet.”